The Promise

I gaze out upon The Sea, as The Dawn slowly pours over Me . . . It’s brilliant Pageant of Light dances upon My Bed of Jewels, where I laid, under a Blanket of Stars, to while away The Night’s Passage . . . after a Moment’s Reflection, and a Prayer to All Things Dear, I set out toward The Palace, Once Again, along The Shores of Eden, along This Path of Tears . . . and in The Time of A Wink, My Eyes behold an Image, a Woman, of profound Splendor, walking toward Me, as if I, were Her Intent, as if I, were Her Reason . . . beside Myself with Wonder, I could only Hope . . .

Still, at a Distance, for I cannot yet see Her Eyes, Her Body pleases Me . . . The Sand, The Sea, The Sky . . . All are in extreme Clarity, yet All are completely intangible . . . My Focus is The Spectral Masterpiece in front of Me . . . My Adrenaline is a fevered rush, and I must command the last vestiges of My Self-Control to resist shattering . . . I keep walking, struggling to maintain a bearing of Serenity, and forge onward . . .

I feel Invincible, though dwarfed by The Magnitude of Her Presence . . . I am Alone, with My Trepidation . . . I am Alone, with Her . . . She moves, as Liquid, with a Grace that startles Me, and She is as Natural to Her Surroundings as is Sunlight, possessing a Radiance all Her Own . . . She is closer . . . I can see The Smile I have sailed The Millennia to see . . .

The Sense of Time has abandoned Me, along with involuntary impulses to breathe . . . Feeling has left My Fingertips, and My Vision, save for Her Aspect, is dimmed beyond Acuity . . . External Light sources are fading, and All Sound is in retreat . . . conventional Mind synapses are lost, and core Body functions subsist on primal drive . . . My Mind, or what remains of It, is a spinning Vortex of pure, white hot Awe . . . My Heart, echoes The Roar and Velocity, of a Triphammer . . .

Her Eyes . . . Eyes that could send Armies into Oblivion, cause Empires to rise and fall, The Seasons to unwind, Suns to blink, and ordinary Men to Their Knees . . . Windows to Galaxies . . . Her Eyes, Thresholds to The Oceans of Awareness, and All that lies beyond The Realm of Understanding . . . and Somehow, despite the immense Universe of Her Aura, I remain standing, walking, closer . . .

The Air seems to be vibrating softly, but with a Purpose, as if The Sky were about to crack from The Intensity of mere Thought . . . I have stepped within, surrounded, by The Colors of Her Essence . . . as Her Voice crosses The Distance between Us, spilling over Me like Cool Water . . . I can see Her Words, flying, like Jewels across The Cyan Sky, and I am The Sky . . . She is speaking to My Heart . . . to Me . . . I am spellbound by The Intimacy, and I must respond and I cannot, for My Voice became dust, long ago . . . Closer is no longer possible, for I am, where Here, Is . . .

Stonemasons, Artisans, Poets, Painters, and Sculptors down through Antiquity, have never captured The Loveliness of a Goddess such as She . . . Her Face, is a Classic Vista of Wonder and Perfection . . . A Mirror of flawless crystal could never cast a Likeness to compare with The Beauty before Me . . . and I am Ever humbled, in The Presence of Her Majesty . . .

I am within Her . . . I am born Anew, yet I have lost all Sense of Self . . . Desire has become My Master, though We have yet to Touch, for I feel I would require The Sanctification of Nature to do so . . . yet She, as if knowing My Thoughts, and with The Grace of a Swan, nods Her Head, and slowly raises Her Hand, toward My Face . . .

No Man, Gone or yet Lived, has known of This Rapture, even in Dreams . . . The Fire of Anticipation rivals The Core of The Sun, burning All Senses . . . to be touched by Paradise, is to be made One with Her . . . I have never imagined being worthy of This Gift, of This Ecstasy . . . oh yes, to dance with The Muse, in whose Embrace awaits the seldom heard Whisper, of Fulfillment . . .

Her Hand caresses My Face, as She would The Wind, like Silk across My Skin . . . The Rhythm of Life flows through Her, and electrifies My Soul . . . and in The Breath of A Moment, I know All that is in Her Heart, for She has given Me Her Own . . . She is Earth, She is Air, She is Light, She is The Dawn . . . I stand before Creation’s Daughter, and I am blessed, for She, is The Angel of Love . . .

I am wrapped, within The Music of Her Being, and I, begin, to cry . . .

from A StoryTeller’s Dream ( Dream I ) The Second DoveTale – The Pillow of Hope

and

Book II, The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Seventh DoveTale – The Robes of Honor